Warning. Very brief, non-graphic mentions of suicide. Warning.

Chapter 1 - Turquoise Dream

Fragile Bird

. . .Seeing no hope of breath, they swim into their death. . .

-:-

Sometimes the meaning of life doesn't necessarily need to have a meaning at all. Sometimes it is as simple as giving life life, itself and other times ... well, other times it's like a dark, mutilated shadow.

The question of what life means follows you everywhere, literally, even if you never actually turn around to see it tailing you.

Everyone just wants to feel like their lives count for something. Everyone wants to be assured that all this is not just a cosmic accident.

The good news is that finding a sense of purpose is possible at any age. But some would argue that it is a waste of time, to find meaning in life, that is, since the universe is a cruel, uncaring void, because the key to being happy isn't a search for purpose, but to just keep busy with unimportant nonsense and eventually, you'll be dead.

He doesn't know if -

The shrill ringing of his phone on the nightstand breaks him from his sleep, has him groaning as he shifts beneath the blankets. He squeezes his eyes shut and folds the pillow over his ears to drown it out, hoping it'll silence itself without forcing him to actually get up and move and do it himself.

But it doesn't - of course - and he remembers then that he's a doctor; it could be an emergency at the hospital. So, he huffs as his eyes peel open to pitch blackness, except for the flashing light and buzzing beside him. He pushes up on his elbows, lazily grabs for the device.

He squints at the screen, but he doesn't need clear vision to read the name; he knows the picture that's shining back at him, knows it all too well. It's Addison, and for a few very very tempting seconds he considers ignoring it, letting it go to voicemail because it's - three-thirty-nine and very early in the morning for him to deal with his ex-wife.

He doubts there's any real emergency right now.

It's Addison. Every little thing is an emergency to her.

He checks his pager - nothing.

He really can't do this, have another conversation with her again. He can't.

What other bombshell does she need to drop on him now? At this hour? Why is there even more secrets and lies?

Regardless, the tiny part of him that's been her husband for the past twelve years wins over in the end and he's also curious to know as to why she's calling and with a huge sigh he answers.

"Addison, do you know what time it is?"

Silence.

All he hears is breathing on the other line and he sits up a bit straighter, more alert.

Maybe more irritated is much accurate.

"Addison?"

"Give me a reason not to kill myself."

His breath catches in his throat and at the same time, his heart hammers harshly in his chest, crashing almost painfully against his ribcage for release.

No, she must be joking. She's starving for attention (in a very Addison fashion, he must add.)

"I don't have time for your antics, Addison. It's really late - or rather, it's really early -"

"All I need is one reason, Derek." she says quickly, all in one exhale, and he can tell from the shakiness of her tone that she's desperate for an answer.

She might just be serious.

He hears a noise that sounds something like a gasp, and it takes him a few seconds to register that the sharp inhale of breath came from him.

"What?" he asks slowly, willing his voice to stay calm even as he rips the covers off of his body. "Have you been drinking?"

"Give me one reason not to, Derek," she repeats, and the tone of her voice sends chills down his spine.

She sounds so far away, so distant, so defeated. Her voice is soft but it wavers, every inch of it is screaming with resignation.

She wouldn't.

She wouldn't, right?

It's not very Montgomery to do so.

Right?

Right.

"Because you are loved, Addison, whether you know it's true or not." he says so seriously, his voice verges on hysterical as he throws on his jacket and leaves the trailer.

He's prepared to list out a billion and one more reasons if he has to. He has to convince her. He'll do anything to make her believe everything he says.

"Because you've worked so hard all your life - you're so smart and special, you have so much more to give. Because this, I know you won't believe me, but this will hurt Bizzy and the Captain. Because this would absolutely kill Archer ..." he jumps into his car as his voice trails off and peels out without so much as looking behind him.

He leaves out that it would kill him too, because this isn't about him. It's about talking her down from whatever the hell it is that's crawled into her mind and her body.

More silence.

"Addie."

Breathing.

There is breathing. She's still breathing, so he forces himself to relax his tension-filled shoulders and focus on the road.

"Addie, you there?"

He keeps talking.

"You need a reason? Okay, because I - because if you do this, it would break everyone. You're needed, Addison. We all need you. Our nieces and nephews -"

"They're not mine, Derek."

Right. He's forgotten that's what divorce does.

He shakes his head. She absolutely loves those kids. "They'll always love you, Addison. You've been in their lives since day one."

"It doesn't matter anymore. We're still not ..."

"What? No, no," he's basically shouting into the phone now, "Believe me, Addie, they love you, they love their aunt so much - and we need you. Savvy, Weiss, my sisters - me." he finally admits, though he knows his behaviour and actions recently truly contradicts that very statement. "Everyone. Mark, even. You are loved."

She huffs. "No, I'm not." There's a pause. "I'm sorry. I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have -" He hears rustling on her end, a crash, then a curse, and his heart speeds up.

"Addie!"

"I'm so sorry, Derek. For everything. Really."

Shit!

"Addison," he yells again into the receiver, but there's no answer. He pulls the phone away from his ear to realise she'd hung up, and his fingers frantically dial her number again. "Come on."

She doesn't answer and he slams his hand onto the steering wheel, pushes his foot harder on the gas.

He can barely hear himself think over the thrashing of his heart and he tries to stay calm, rationalise this and make himself believe that she won't actually do this. It should be some sort of sick prank. She couldn't possibly be thinking about killing herself.

But she is, apparently, and that's why she's called him in the middle of the night, asking for a reason as to why she ought to still be living.

Tears rush to the surface but he pushes them back, keeps them at bay because he can't do this right now. He can't break down behind the wheel because if he does he'll just make it worse, and that's not what anyone needs.

He should call Mark, so he could check up on Addison. He's staying at the Archfield too, if he's not mistaken. But - goddamnit- he doesn't fucking have his number.

He's only a few minutes from her hotel now, he can't seem to shut his mind off, can't stop the panic from curling at his insides and suffocating him.

Were there signs? There are usually signs with these kinds of situations, right?

His mind goes wild trying to think of them, of something, anything that should've, would've alerted him that Addison wasn't herself, that she was thinking about hurting herself. But - okay, he does not know. He hasn't really been paying any attention to her lately, especially since she told him about her and Mark and everything else that happened after he left New York.

Meredith found her crying in the supply closet the other day. But that couldn't haven been a red flag for suicide.

Right?

Maybe it's the divorce.

But she wouldn't.

Would she?

Not his Addison.

For someone who's supposed to be so observant, so detail-oriented, he has nothing.

This is all his fault.

She asked if he had a minute last night. After his shift. He found her at his floor, waiting for him by the elevators. He was confused, irritated, knew his face said it all, but she smiled anyway.

She knew his schedule - of course, she does. She knew just what time he'd leave his office. It hasn't changed, even if he's in Seattle now.

She knew. She remembered.

She asked if they could talk, but he said no. He said he didn't have a minute to talk and just walked away, pretended he didn't see the pained look on her face at the rejection.

What if this is what she wanted to talk to him about? What if he could've stopped this before it even started, avoided this late night phone call?

She might have been ready to talk to him about whatever it is that she's obviously feeling, everything that's brought this to the forefront of her mind, but he was too busy with his own pitiful anger and wounded pride that he couldn't have even given her the time she asked for.

And now she's - now she's scaring him, terrifying him to a point that he's never experienced before.

He barely pays attention to the park job he's just done, just makes sure he's somewhat against the curb before he turns the car off and hops out, slamming the door in his haste to run across the street to the hotel she calls home now.

He's been here thrice. Three unfortunate events. The last time, he was ready to apologise for everything he's done, did and did not do as her husband. He even had an entire speech laid out, but then, Mark happened.

God, this is incredibly sad.

No, this is incredibly sad.

He looks at his watch. It's been twenty minutes since she's called. He doesn't have time. He doesn't wait for the elevator either, just takes long strides up the stairs to her floor, ignoring the tightness in his chest.

It's from both the exertion and the panic, he knows.

Her door comes into view and he pounds on it, shouts her name in the process.

"Addison!" He's far too aware that it's the middle of the night, that her neighbours are asleep, but he can't bring himself to worry about that. Not right now. "Addison! Addie!"

Nothing.

I'm so sorry, Derek. For everything.

Stepping back, he takes a deep breath before springing forward in full force, surging his body into the door until it opens. He does wonder if it was unlocked to begin with because it did give way maybe a little too easily, but he decides not to question it.

His eyes takes in her room, seemingly too normal, nothing out of place. They stop at her kitchen counter; there's a clean knife resting on the surface.

It's clean. It's clean.

Running water!

He hears running water and he's back in action, following the sound into the bathroom. It's a surprise that he knows this place as well as he does considering the limited amount of time he's spent here.

The door is cracked open, and his attention is drawn to the water flooding the floor. His fists pushes the door open the rest of the way until he's in, his eyes immediately falling to the overflowing tub.

"Addison!"

She's under the water, eyes closed, face slack, and he's gone cold. He blinks back the tears as he rushes to grab at her. Her clothes are still on, soaked through and freezing, and his fingers grip at the fabric, uses it as leverage to tug her above the water's surface.

"Addie!" he tries again, but she's not moving. Her eyes don't open. "Come on, please!"

He's on his knees, pants already drenched before he stands again, uses all of his strength to pull her out and lay her gently onto the floor. Her skin is pale and he realises with utter horror that her chest isn't rising. She's not breathing. His fingers press against her wrist, praying for a miracle, for any chance that there's still a shallow pulse.

He keeps them there for over a minute, hoping for something, but there's nothing.

"Addie," he whispers, his voice breaking around her name. His arms goes to wrap around her, clutching the limp body to his chest. He lets the tears come away now and they fall freely as the sobs wrack his body. "I'm so sorry, Addie."

He's too late.

Thanks so much for reading guys. It's one of those days that I'm sad, so here's what I came up with.

I shall continue? I think I should. And I will if you want me too. Maybe a chapter or two. A little story.

I have another story on this subject as well, but that's kinda different. If you want me to continue with that too, I shall do it. ;) Oh, and I'm still working on Find Your Voice and Unhinged . I'm almost there. :)

Thanks so much for your patience.

I'd love to know your thoughts.

Review. REVIEW!